


My Eyes, They Despise You for Who I Am

by Jahgyong



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Café, Cellphone Booth Representative!Emil, Flashbacks, Gen, Missing and Yearning, Part-Time Barista!Yuri, Toilet humor, University Student!Otabek, University Student!Yuri, Unrequited Love, barista!yuuri, ex-friends, mall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 10:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19868254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jahgyong/pseuds/Jahgyong
Summary: It’s been 3 months since Otabek Altin moved away for college. Yuri hasn’t seen him again since. He’s grateful for that, because he doesn’t need a backstabbing, flaky liar like that in his life. They were once best friends, but now they’re enemies. He now hates Otabek fucking Altin. Or… does he? What is this solid, tight, concentrated bud lodged in his heart then? And why does it blossom into yearning and missing when he sees a familiar person standing outside his workplace one cold December day?





	My Eyes, They Despise You for Who I Am

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the lyrics of Poppin' Champagne by All Time Low.

Yuri Plisetsky sighed exaggeratedly, dropping the dirty plate on the granite countertop without any regard for its ceramic makeup. Beside him, Yuuri Katsuki widened his eyes in alarm. 

“Ah, Yurio…” he began nervously, reaching for the plate. 

Yuri raised an eyebrow at him in annoyance, shoving his hands in his apron pockets. “What?”

“Umm,” Yuuri hesitated, lightly holding the edge of the plate.

“Yeah, I know,” Yuri threw his head back, glowering at the modern orb light fixture hanging overhead. “Be careful, blah blah blah.” 

“Yeah,” said Yuuri quietly, taking the plate and quickly turning away from him. 

Yuri ignored him. He’d worked here long enough-- he didn’t need that dumb Katsudon telling him what to do anymore. It was the same shit day after day at this stupid cafe that he absolutely did not care to work at if he didn’t need money so bad. 

He propped his elbows up on the counter and glared around at the eating area while Yuuri washed the dishes. Why couldn’t that one couple at the corner table by the window _leave_ already? He didn’t have the patience for their generic stock photo-esque asses right now. The college student hogging a table meant for three wasn’t helping his sour mood, either; how Yuri wished to kick that guy, his laptop, and two notebooks out the exit at this moment. He glanced at the large, circular clock hung up on the wall behind him; great, four more fucking hours until he could leave this dump. Perhaps he should go for a walk around the mall for half an hour and disguise it as “taking a long shit”. Katsudon could handle the store by himself for a while. It wasn’t _that_ busy today. Yuri reached behind to untie his apron when he caught sight of a guy standing around by the cellphone booth situated just outside the cafe. 

His heart quickened a pace. It couldn’t be… 

Black hair styled in an undercut.

Short height.

Black biker jacket. 

Dark jeans.

Black boots.

Yuri leaned over the counter to try and get a better look at the fellow, his heart leaping into his throat. The guy was talking to that eccentric phone booth employee Emil, who was a regular at this cafe, who ate here on his breaks, who annoyed Yuri with his blabbering about random, weird shit. Yuri squinted; he was sure that the boy was… _Otabek._ Otabek fuckin’ backstabbing Altin. _The_ Otabek Altin.

Mr. I-Don’t-Like-You-In-That-Way-And-Now-You’ve-Made-This-Situation-Unnecessarily-Awkward-So-We-Have-To-Stop-Being-Friends. Yuri glared, pupils narrowing to slits, as Otabek continued chatting with that shithead Emil. He could fight this guy right now, huh? Could jump over the counter, run out of the cafe and to that mobile phone booth, and deck fucking Otabek in the face. Otabek deserved to eat a knuckle sandwich on the house after what he did to Yuri one sunny August day, three months ago. Yuri felt his hands twitch into fists. How dare Otabek ruin his life? He hadn’t been the same since that bastard had left. Otabek’s departure had punctured a permanent hole in his heart shaped like the DJ himself. Yuri couldn’t forgive him. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t… 

“Hi,” a customer’s voice rang hollow in Yuri’s ears. 

Unfortunately, the blonde wasn’t seeing the young lady, only the guy at the phone stand with Emil. 

“Could I get an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie with a medium French blend coffee?” 

Yuri’s mind registered the order on autopilot, his hands autonomously ringing up the total. His eyes refused to part ways with the giant window seperating him from Otabek. He absently grabbed the mini tongs hanging from a hook behind the counter to pick out an oatmeal chocolate chip cookie from inside the display case. Even with his mind elsewhere, he still took a cookie from the back, closest to him and farthest away from the customer. He couldn’t escape the owner, Viktor, bitching about doing this when he’d still been training, even now. 

The cookie fell into a small, waiting paper bag with a soft _plop._ Yuri placed it on the counter for the customer to take as he spun around in what felt like slow motion to fill the accompanying cup of coffee. He blinked when he came face-to-face with Katsudon, who had a medium cup of coffee in his hands, ready to go. 

“Here,” Yuuri said softly, handing the French blend to the stunned blonde. 

Yuri wordlessly accepted the cup, also setting it down on the counter. As soon as the customer left, he hastily untied his apron and tossed it Yuuri’s way, apprehension soaring in his chest. “I’ll be back,” he managed to say and, without sparing his colleague a glance, opened the gate to leave his position at the counter. His heart thudded wildly as he booked it across the floor, dashing past patrons and table sets. He skidded to a stop just outside the cafe, his eyes zeroing in on the lone Emil at the cellphone booth. Where was Otabek? 

“Heya, Yuri,” Emil greeted him with a wave, shooting a twinkling smile. “Need a new phone again?” 

Yuri’s gaze flicked everywhere, at the entrances of the stores nearby, at the high-vaulted ceiling, at the dirty floor, at Emil sitting on his little stool, back toward the cafe, at the random passerbys milling about. “Where…” he trailed off, craning his neck to see past Emil’s display case.

Emil continued smiling, but didn’t say anything. 

“Did you see… never mind,” Yuri shook his head, the hope that had been building in his heart deflating. 

“See what?” Emil asked brightly, his eyes lighting up. 

“I said, _never mind_ ,” Yuri grumbled, swivelling away from the annoying fellow. He exhaled sharply, glaring at a family exiting the sportswear shop across from him. _Fucking Otabek._ Yuri had lost him… again. 

“Well, if you need a new phone, I’ll be right here!” Emil called from behind him. 

Yuri gave him the finger over his shoulder as he prepared to return to Living Legend Cafe. He made direct eye contact with Yuuri while doing so, taking in the other man’s shocked expression. Shit. Well, Yuri had no explanations ready for his sudden ditching. He unknowingly initiated a staring contest with Yuuri as he panicked, flipping his brain inside-out for a believable excuse. And then it hit him, plopping into his head, its grandiose arrival spattering the walls of his mind: 

_He had the runs._

Pretending that his stomach was cramping, Yuri sharply pivoted away from Yuuri and broke out into a jog, passing by the now-perplexed Emil. His eyes roved, not seeking a washroom, but a certain Kazakh man sporting an undercut. His search yielded no success as he slowed down, now an appropriate distance away from the cafe and out of Yuuri’s field of vision. Knowing that he couldn’t go back for a while, he began wandering in and out of random stores, hoping to “accidentally” run into Otabek in one of them. The discount shop, the skater clothing one, formalwear, shoes, bookstore… Yuri’s heart twisted more and more with each outlet he came out of alone. 

He’d lost him. 

On the one hand, he was relieved, feeling as though he actually had destroyed a toilet. Three months had not been enough time for him to make a full recovery from that… that heartbreak. What would he have even said had he encountered Otabek? _I miss you? Let’s be friends again? Can I come be roommates with you in Germany and study over there instead?_ Perhaps he would have succumbed to the still-pent-up rage within him and demanded that Otabek explain _why_ he thought scrapping their friendship had been “the best for them”. Of course it wasn’t!!! Other people fell in love with their friends all the time, and _they_ didn’t make this big of a stink over it. Otabek was just stupid. Yeah, he was merely a total asshole. Yuri should have seen it coming, should have expected that the dumb DJ-university student-whatever else roles he now had slapped on him was hiding something behind that stoic facade of his. Scowling, the petite blonde crossed over to a bench by the escalator, shouldering past a crowd of high schoolers along the way to plop his ass down on that hard, uncomfortable wooden surface.

On the other hand, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, he was disappointed about not experiencing a chance meeting with his douchey ex-best friend because… Yuri still missed him. Greatly. Every fucking day. Not a day passed where he _didn’t_ miss Otabek; rain or shine, winter or summer, he still saw Otabek in his mind, his mind conjuring up memories that came and went like the four seasons: 

He was on the back of Otabek’s motorcycle, arms wrapped tightly around his friend, his black bike helmet absorbing the sun’s scorching rays. 

Otabek shooting him a coy smile as red and orange leaves gently fell to the ground around them. 

He was walking side by side with Otabek along the riverbank, passing by trees with their blooming flowers. 

Otabek laughing in his car as he took a turn too fast and wound up drifting along the ice, skidding to a stop just inches from the curb. 

Yuri was snapped out of his reverie by someone yelling. Blinking, he turned his head to the source of the shouting. It was a security guard blazing away in the direction of the department store, hot on the trail of a shoplifter, Yuri assumed. And then it hit him, dispersing the nostalgia: he was still in the mall… and he was supposed to be at work. Fuck. He made his way back to Living Legend Cafe, ever so slightly urgently. Not that he was worried about Katsudon’s wellbeing in general, only the other man’s inability to handle pressure should 20 customers storm him simultaneously. He lingered outside the cafe’s entryway, peering through the window while swallowing down his pride as best as he could. It was dead inside… good. Katsudon was placing dirty dishes in the sink, his back to Yuri. Feeling Emil’s eyes boring through the back of his head but refusing to acknowledge the other’s presence, Yuri sauntered into the cafe, silently rehearsing his diarrhea excuse. Yuuri didn’t notice him until the telltale creaking of the counter gate being opened sounded, alerting him of Yuri’s comeback.

As expected, the Katsudon jumped a little, swivelling around to face Yuri. Tying his apron, which had been abandoned under the counter, around his waist, Yuri said, with the right amount of petulance and a scorn, “What? Can a guy not shit around here?”

Yuuri continued staring at him, wide-eyed, hands dunked in the sudsy sink basin. “Uh…”

“It was diarrhea, okay?” Yuri went on, tapping on the till monitor to wake it up. 

“I… hope you’re okay..?” was all Yuuri said in a hushed tone. 

"Yeah, yeah, I just ate something bad.” Yuri resumed the position that he’d been in before he’d seen Otabek with Emil: leaning against the counter with his elbows propped up on its surface, cradling his cheeks in his hands. Back to the same bullshit. 

“Do you want to go home?” Yuuri asked from behind, the clanking of dishes and the stream of water from the faucet cutting out his last word.

 _Do you want to go?_ was what Yuri heard. And yes, he did want to go. Not back to his house, but back before That Night, when he and Otabek had still been friends. He wanted out of this cafe, this current lifestyle, this country, and into Germany, into a new life, into Otabek’s arms. He didn’t want to be held by obligations… he wanted to be held by Otabek. “Yeah,” he said without thinking, the scenery before him shifting from the storefront to the airport, the eating area transforming into the waiting area in his eyes. 

“Y-You should go then,” said Yuuri softly. _You should go_ , Otabek said without glancing up from his phone. 

“No,” Yuri mumbled. 

“Will you be okay?” 

“Probably.” Yuri wasn’t seeing the cash register anymore, only the escalator that would lead him down, away from Otabek. 

“I’m here if you need anything, Yurio.” 

Those words returned Yuri to the cafe, a lone tear rolling down his cheek and off his chin, splattering on the smooth granite below, as he regained his composure. He shifted numbly to make eye contact with Yuuri, finding himself drawn to the Japanese man’s kind, warm eyes, those eyes melting a sliver of the ice that Otabek had encased his heart in at the airport. “Thanks,” he managed in a barely audible voice. 

Maybe pork cutlet bowls weren’t so bad, after all. 

Same with part-time DJ’s who drove motorcycles instead of cars.

Although Yuri despised seeing undercuts, biker jackets, and motorcycles at this point in time, he knew that, someday, he would grow to love seeing them again. He _hoped_ to see that combination again. But until then, it would be the same shit day in, day out. School on the weekdays, work on the weekends, missing Otabek in-between. Rinse and repeat, just like the soiled dishes at this cafe. 

Yuri gave Yuuri a light shove. “I’ll take it from here. You’re too slow. Go greet customers at the till. You’re good at blabbering.” 

Yuuri smiled slightly, pushing his glasses up with his arm. "Oh. Thanks, Yurio.” 

They then switched places; Yuri had never been more glad to see a stack of dishes and cutlery sitting in soapy water than in this moment. He immediately plunged his hands into the cool water to start furiously scrubbing an appetizer plate, thankful that this cleaning would drown out the memory of seeing Otabek earlier. Only three more hours to go. 

Yuri could do this. It wouldn’t last forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! I'm back with another bittersweet yoi fic lmao i'm sorry orz thank you so much for reading though, and i hope you enjoyed the story! ~~or as much as possible with the angst~~. Have a lovely day and take care, everyone <3
> 
> You can find me on [twitter!](https://twitter.com/jahgyong)


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